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Wales PoetryThe Death Of OwainLo! the youth, in mind a man, Daring in the battle's v... The Faithful Maiden At the dawning of day on a morning in May, When the bi... The Lord Of Clas The Lord of Clas to his hunting is gone, Over plain and... The Vengeance Of Owain {96} Gruffydd ab Cynan, Prince of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and ... Translated By The Rev William Evans God doth withhold no good from those Who meekly fear him ... From The Hymns Of The Rev William Williams, Pantycelyn he inherited from his ancestors, was born in the parish of... The Dawn Streaking the mantle of deep night The rays of light ... Concerning The Divine Providence ... Childe Harold "Oh Gwynedd, fast thy star declineth, Thy name is gone, t... Pennillion Cymry, and was much practised in the houses of the Welsh g... The Grove Of Broom The girl of nobler loveliness Than countess decked in go... Gwilym Glyn And Ruth Of Dyffryn In the depth of yonder valley, Where the fields are bright... The Immovable Covenant the Welsh of Mr. H. Hughes, was a Minister in the Baptist ... The Song Of The Fisherman's Wife Restless wave! be still and quiet, Do not heed the win... An Ode On The Death Of Hoel of the sixth century. He was himself a soldier, and d... May And November Sweet May, ever welcome! the palace of leaves Thy hand for... The Sick Man's Dream Dans le solitaire bourgade, Revant a ses maux triste... My Father-land Land of the Cymry! thou art still, In rock and valley, str... The Lily And The Rose Once I saw two flowers blossom In a garden 'neath the h... The Fairy's Song "Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy!"--SHAKSPEARE. ... |
Taliesin's ProphecyCategory: The Patriotic. A voice from time departed, yet floats thy hills among, O Cambria! thus thy prophet bard, thy Taliesin sung, The path of unborn ages is trac'd upon my soul, The clouds, which mantle things unseen, away before me roll. A light, the depths revealing, hath o'er my spirit passed; A rushing sound from days to be swells fitful on the blast, And tells me that for ever shall live the lofty tongue, To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung. Green island of the mighty! {87a} I see thine ancient race Driv'n from their fathers' realm, to make the rocks their dwelling place! I see from Uthyr's {87b} kingdom the sceptre pass away, And many a line of bards and chiefs, and princely men decay. But long as Arvon's mountains shall lift their sovereign forms, And wear the crown to which is giv'n dominion o'er the storms, So long, their empire sharing, shall live the lofty tongue, To which the harp of Mona's woods by Freedom's hand was strung. Next: The Monarchy Of Britain Previous: The Battle Of Gwenystrad
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